Alexandria's Genesis
by Warmsands
Summary: Boone decided to travel with the seemingly perfect Courier, only trying to point out her faults along the way. In the Mojave, there's no such thing as perfect. There'll be sex soon. Promise.
1. Chapter 1

Pre-War history out here in the Mojave Desert is rare. There are the few bright souls who set their whole lives in studying ancient artifacts and human history. Craig Boone, a first rate sniper with impeccable skill remembered something that was forever burned into his memory. His wife Carla had been reading a pre-war book with deep interest. Her eyes darted left to right, absorbing the information from the book. When he tried to call her attention, he would only get a simple "Yes honey, it's on the stove."

"Carla, what the hell are you reading that has you so interested?" Craig demanded. She stopped for a second to look up at her husband's angry eyes. She was the only woman un-phased by Boone's cold stare. She understood what first recon business did to a man. "Have you ever heard of Alexandria's Genesis?"

The question startled him for a minute. He slowly shook his head no; his silent nature prevented an answer. "It's a sort of pre-war urban legend. This book describes it as a disease but I think it's a blessing," She started with keen interest. "The 'symptoms' are as follows: the subject is born with purple eyes, sharp eyesight, dark hair, light clear skin that refuses to burn or tan, they do not gain weight, they have well developed bodies, their immune system is amazing so they never contract any disease, and so they hardly age. They get to live to be at least 120 years old. Boone, these people are the very representation of perfect! They're fucking superhuman! Oh my god and I missed this part, 'They excrete very little waste.' They don't shit. Wow."

He scoffed, "It's all a lie, Carla."

She kicked his leg and continued reading. "It can't be a lie, Boone. Look at this," She sat upright and looked closely at the book. "The first recorded case of Alexandria's Genesis was 1329 England. England. Damn, Craig. How long ago was that? And where is England? Anyway, an infant by the name of Alexandria was born with purple eyes. As she grew older, it is said that she gave birth to four girls that also had purple eyes. They all were believed to have lived past 100. Boone, isn't that amazing?"

Craig smiled at his wife's excitement over such an impossible thing. He loved her because regardless of the incredibly improbable things she believed in, she was still astoundingly intelligent. She was beautiful, accepting, perfect in his eyes, but he was always bad at showing it. Carla knew how to read him though, and she didn't need petty reminders of their love. "Let's go to sleep," He said with his monotone voice.

Together, they wrapped everything up to call it a night. Carla switched off the power and laid and took a last minute swig of dirty water and put the book away neatly in a desk. "Do you have to go to work tonight?" She sighed. Boone nodded and waited for her to tuck herself into the bedroll next to him. He liked putting her to sleep before he went to finish his night shift with first recon. It was a pleasant ritual for him. He was a man of routine. He was ready to switch this routine up a little now that they were expecting a child.

Craig Boone trusted his wife's strength. He knew she could take care of herself but he always left a little back-up. That night, he left about 10 plasma mines all around the house, knowing they'd stop any intruders effectively and quietly. He made sure he left a note on her finger so she wouldn't step on one herself. He was so sure it'd keep her safe. He'd done this everyday ever since he met her.

It wasn't enough to save her that night. In a raid that only lasted 47 minutes, his wife, the love of his life, was out of his grasp. She was gone.

* * *

What the hell is with that rapid movement from the East? Boone searched erratically through the scope of his hunting rifle hoping to catch a glimpse of this presence he felt. "What the fuck?" He muttered to himself. The sun was beginning to peak out of the distant hills signaling for his time to go. This would continue to eat at him if he couldn't figure what the fuck that thing was.

Fuck this, he thought, it's time to pack up and his senses are slightly altered when he's about to go to sleep. He wasn't always like this, however. He was a man of routine. He had a specific time to sleep, a specific thing to drink in the mornings, and a specific thing to look forward to when he came home. As sniper however, he was always on his toes and he always had to be sharp. So the dramatic change in his "routine" wasn't too bad. He sighed and strapped his rifle across his shoulders. Just as he was about to head out of the door, the knob of the door was pushed forward in his hand.

Startled, he jumped back without enough time to even quick draw his combat knife. "Goddamn it!" He snapped. "Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?" He wasn't doing a good job at hiding how startled he was. The person who stared at him hid themselves behind a Centurion helmet and reinforced combat armor. His eyes narrowed, his mouth went dry. He noticed Decanus apparel hanging off their satchel. Who was this person?

"Don't look at me like that," They demanded. Their voice sounded feminine. The more Boone observed this stranger, the more they noticed the curvature of their body. He scowled at her snobbish cool reply. "Expecting visitors?" She asked.

"Yeah, I guess I am. But not like you," He stopped himself for a moment before he continued. He scanned her over again with his venomous eyes and let out a huff of approval. Maybe that legion armor meant something. "Huh. Maybe it should've been you I was expecting all along. Why are you here?"

The woman crossed her arms nonchalantly. "I'm meeting new people," She replied smartly.

Boone didn't like her attitude. He replied just as hotly, vocalizing his thought of wanting her to leave. He strongly disliked how he couldn't read her face behind that despicable mask. The darkness of the night was doing him much justice either. "Is this how you treat every newcomer?"

He stopped for a second. "Wait. You just got into town. Maybe you shouldn't go." Suddenly, all the thoughts that had been tearing into his soul for the past couple of years came rushing to him all at once. He barely heard her when she asked why he could possibly need her. He just kept rambling, "I need someone I can trust. A stranger…"

"What do you want me to do?" She asked. Thank you, Carla, he thought, for sending me such a willing stranger. He knew he had to recall painful memories, but it was better than nothing. "I need you to find something out for me. My wife was taken from our home one night by Legion slavers while I was on watch. They knew when to come, what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up."

The woman uncrossed her arms suddenly. "Oh, I can assure you I do not work for the legion," She started while fumbling with the Decanus helmet on her satchel. "These are my prizes, the hardest Legionaries I killed recently." Boone only nodded in approval with understanding written all over his face. There was a newfound respect for this woman. "You're trying to track down your wife?"

The question only stung him a little. "My wife is dead. I want the sonofabitch who killed her." His reply was simple, yet it was the most emotion he has ever shown this past decade. He went into further detail as to what this woman should do once they found the bastard. He had confidence that she would find them, and he had no idea why. Once they left, he made his way towards his motel room. His head felt a little strange without his NCR beret.

The Courier stared at the Bill of Sale with a grim expression. After traveling around the Mojave months after that bullet to the head, she's seen this sort of situation one too many times. She didn't let emotion stand in her way. There was no time for sympathy and no room for mercy either. "Jeannie May Crawford, come with me. There's something in front of the dinosaur I want to show you," She muttered.

The old woman accepted sweetly. Her voice didn't falter and there were no stress levels in her speech. She was itching for Crawford to walk a little faster but she couldn't get her to move faster than a power walk. Once they were in front of the giant comical dinosaur, The Courier stood at a distance to keep the blood and brains off her newly repaired armor. After a final glance at Crawford, she put the beret on.

It was done. She had nothing else to do but to return to that sniper. There was this sort of weight lifted off his glum shoulders once she saw him again. But he still wasn't the brightest bottle cap in the Mojave. "You should have this," He said. "It's the only reward I can give you now,"

"What will you do now?" She asked sincerely.

He seemed lost, suggesting that he would wander the deserts alone like her. She didn't doubt him of course, since she knew he had incredible skill based on the beret he wore. But she knew that this man was scarred. If he wandered alone with no purpose, surely he would put a bullet to his brain in no time. "You should come with me. We could exterminate the Legion."

He shook his head immediately after her asking. "You don't want to do that," He said.

"We could kill many more Legionaries together," She coaxed. The mention of the faction itself was enough to convince him. However, he knew it wasn't going to end well. He told her this. Regardless, she took him in, under her wing, even though Boone would never compare himself to weak little creature that needed guidance.

"Let me give you some better armor," She offered as she opened his inventory. "I need you to carry a couple things for me as well." After swapping numerous amounts of heavy items, she looked at him. After noticing the uncomfortable stare from him, she hastily removed the Legion armor so they could get on better terms. There was definitely a stare from Boone, but it was uncomfortable. It was fascinated, if anything.

He snapped out of quickly and noticed the sudden change in his apparel. "Do you always carry spare Metal Armor?" He lifted his brow.

"I'm quite strong," She replied. "I was meaning to sell this but now I can use it to protect someone." A smile spread across her face as she stared at him. She gave a run down as to what his tactics were and his vitals. She offered a hunting rifle to maintain his scoped one. She even offered very expensive elaborate rifle with pre-war carvings and a shined barrel. How many bottle caps this broad was carrying was beyond him.

"I'd rather get going now," He huffed impatiently. "By the way, the name's Boone." She nodded while lighting herself a cigarette from a pack she had in her pocket. His lips thinned in agitation at her wandering eyes. Just once, he'd wish to see them more up close and personal. He could've sworn they were purple. Either that or they were so blue, they were violet. "Can I at least get your name?"

"It's Sinclaire." She took a long puff from the cigarette. Her cheeks nearly glowed in the moonlight that streamed through the irradiated sky. She caught him staring and chuckled. "You don't have to stare. I'll be with you for a long, long time."

Boone scowled and crossed his arms, waiting for his orders. Sinclaire was very strange. She would never sleep, never eat, never drink. When they happened to stumble across Vault 34, the radiation was making him sick to his stomach. It didn't stop him from catching her off guard by having his bullets whiz a centimeter away from her torso, stopping ghouls dead in their track. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop stealing my kills," She said jokingly. "I have to waste all of this ammo somehow."

"Now you're just being cocky," He grunted. She grinned and noticed the obvious displeasure written across his face.

"Is the radiation bothering you? I have some Rad-x and RadAway if you need some. I also have a space suit for Rad Resistance," she insisted by quickly running some commands in her Pip-boy, acquiring some of the meds. He shook his head stubbornly. She kept insisting for him to swallow the fills and inject the RadAway into his system so he'd be more comfortable. Comfort wasn't something he wanted. "Alright, well if you really think so. Wait for me. I have to go underwater to look for some access cards. We're locked out of the important stuff."

"I'll sit tight," Boone assured her. She submerged herself into the green, grim looking water. He waited for her patiently only to feel the radiation slowly eats its way into his core. Desperately, he looked through his pockets, only to find that Sinclaire had snuck some RadAway And Rad-X into his inventory. He half smirked, half frowned. He didn't like how she can easily slip in and out of his sight.

There was a splash of water to his left and a loud gasp of hair. He turned his attention quickly to Sinclaire. "Okay, one down, two to go." She shook off some of the water but quickly made her way around the maze of corridors. Boone dreaded the thought of having to wait for her while she was underwater again. Something unnerved him about that thing that covered her mouth. She called it a Rebreather, something that let her breathe under water. Where the hell does she get all these things? "Here's the second underground room. This will only be a second."

Before she could submerge herself into the water, a glowing security ghoul lunged itself at her. It clawed deep into her leg, only to back up and throw its arms into the air, to emit an explosion of radiation and hard fragments of its own flesh and bone. He heard a cry from Sinclaire, but he couldn't see her. He knew she was dying. "Shit," He repeated countless times.

With a sudden menacing growl, he saw Sinclair kick the glowing one and lock its head into her arm. "Take the shot," She ordered. "Right to its head!" She struggled to keep the thing into her strong grip as it continually clawed into her arm.

"Your arm is in the way!" He yelled back. "How am I supposed to shoot its head?" He kept his eye looking through the scope of his rifle. He was hesitating. When he was in 1st Recon, the first thing they taught the soldiers was to never hesitate. But there was Boone, with a steady, trigger happy finger refusing to shoot this stupid creature.

"Take the fucking shot, Boone!" Sinclaire bellowed angrily. "Do it now." His face went red, his eyesight went red, and everything went red. He took the shot but closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the bullet penetrate her skin. It hurt him just knowing that he had to do this again. The memories wounded him. He heard her heavy breathing echo inside the vault. She looked at Boone without saying a word while healing her crippled limbs with a doctors bag. She took a scalped and carefully scooped the fragments the bullet had left inside the muscle of her arm. There was a long hiss escaping her clenched teeth, and then there were the quiet grunts of surrounding ghouls. "Do you need a Stimpack?"

Boone shook his head no. She rolled her shoulders and neck, with her legs as good as new and health at full capacity. She was ready to venture underwater again to continue ravaging the ghouls and looting Vault 34. After they had gotten all the weaponry from the armory, they headed out to continue venturing into the Wastes. She reassured Boone that they would be safe resting on some beds inside an abandoned Tool company since she'd wiped out all the security robots that had still occupied the area. As they relaxed on the torn mattresses with a soft glow from a light tracing shadows across their faces, Sinclaire spoke. "Is there a reason you hesitated back there?"

Boone's stiffened with aggravation evading his mind. He's rather not talk about it right now but he had to come up with something to delete the subject completely. "I'm not comfortable with shooting my own comrades," He mumbled. With that, he turned his backside to her hoping to be ignored by her. She threw a flask of vodka at him with pursed lips.

"It'll ease your mind," She spoke softly. Her voice pervaded his ears with its calming tone. His heart had settled a little and for once, he felt comfortable. Grabbing the flask, he gulped the vodka with ease. The burning sensation in his throat was something he had missed for quite some time. "Back in the armory, a found a lot of frag grenades and dynamite you might want to use," She continued.

Sinclaire pushed a pile of grenades in his direction with a grin spread across her face. "I'm not good with explosives," he grumbled. "You know that."

She snorted, "Who cares, Boone? They're just fun to use. Oh man, you should see how much fun I used to have with the Powder Gangers…" She crossed her leg and lit up a cigarette. Boone got a closer look at her face and noticed two large scars shadowed by the dim light. One was on her temple, and the other was a clear slash across her face. That's when he noticed the purple color of her iris spilling over pupil, a gray color clouding over. "Are you staring at my eye?"

Boone snapped out of it suddenly and looked away guiltily. "What happened?"

"Alpha Deathclaw," She said simply. A little stream of smoke escaped from her lips only to fill Boone's nose. He was tempted to smoke but he never actually liked inhaling that sort of thing into his lungs. A sniper's lungs have to be in top shape for perfect accuracy. "It clawed right through my eye before I could bring it down. I'm blind in that eye now."

"How'd you manage alone in the wastes?" Boone asks.

"I'm only blind in one eye," Sinclaire laughed. "I'm not completely crippled."

"Why does the radio keep talking about a courier who rose from the grave after taking a bullet to the head? Is that you?"

She gave him a quick glance as a warning sign. Maybe Boone was going too far. "My life isn't so private," She sighed. "If you listen, you'll figure it out." It was her turn to turn her back on him and disconnect the battery from the wires that illuminated the room with its soft light. That was when he knew he should just shut up. Usually he was the one who gave people that sign. When he heard the steady breaths escaping her lips, he knew she was asleep. It was time for him to close his eyes.

* * *

It pained Boone to see Boulder City in flames. It was ruined. What was once a peaceful resort for NCR citizens was just as it was named, a city of nothing but rocks and boulders. "What's going on here?" He heard Sinclaire speak with a lieutenant just outside the entrance to the city.

"Those damn Great Khans are at it again," The lieutenant growled under his breath. "They're holding two of my men in there, Private Ackerman and Private Gilbert. If you can get them out of there alive, it'd be greatly appreciated." Sinclaire checked her Pip-Boy for a second before looking at him dead in the eye with a nod included. She headed towards the junk door, but Boone hesitated.

"Loosen up, Boone," She said in a grave tone. "I'm just as nervous as you are." She tried to pinch his thick neck between her index finger and her thumb, something she had been doing ever since they began traveling together. Oddly enough, it did relax his tensed muscles. As they entered Boulder City, there was a platoon of NCR troops squatting behind old pre-war cars with their weapons drawn. They stared at Sinclaire and Boone with this eerie silence. One of the soldiers managed to utter a word of approval; "I wish I had a 1st recon guy looking after me."

Sinclaire looked over her shoulder to give Boone a sort of half smile. It bothered him how many times he's heard those words coming out of so many NCR soldiers. These trivial thoughts soon ceased when he caught sight of the Great Khans patrolling two ruined buildings. They gave him a cold hard stare. "You know you're traveling with a fucking murderer?" One of them commented. His blood thinned, dreading to see the reaction and questions she would have for him.

But she continued walking to the Great Khan hide out without a glance at Boone. None of the Khans were hostile towards him either. He thought it has something to do with her reputation. As soon as they entered, Sinclaire was approached by a Khan with a grimey Bandana and a Mohawk. "What the hell? You're that courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead," He exclaimed. His face was pale, as though he had seen a ghost.

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Sinclaire leered. "And I believe you have something that belongs to me."

"Yeah… well about that…"

"Jessup, I'm not in the mood for your stalling," Her voice was nearly at a growl now. "Where's the Platinum Chip?"

"Woah, calm down," Jessup pleaded. "I don't have it. Benny stole it right after stabbing us in the back. He's probably back the strip laughing at all of us." She clicked her tongue in annoyance at gave her Pip-boy a quick glance before looking at Jessup again.

"That little prick," She hissed. "Anyway, we need to talk about you letting those hostages go."

"No deal," Jessup replied quickly. "The only reason we have those hostages is because they already have us through their scope. They have their hostages, we get killed. It's not fair."

"Let them go and the NCR will let you walk," She assured.

"How are you so sure about that?"

"Let them go," She said again, with her hand on her deadly magnum revolver. Jessup sighed and rubbed his temples in annoyance. He finally agreed, with the exception that the NCR held their end of the bargain. Satisfied with their agreement, Sinclaire went back to speak with Lieutenant Monroe.

"Good job on getting my people freed but I just received orders to take out the Khans. Hostages or not," He said before he would even let her speak. Sinclaire crossed her arms with tightened lips. Boone knew she was annoyed, but she never bothered showing it. She's told him before that if you show any sign of distress in the wastes, you're as good as a piece of Brahmin shit.

"The Great Khans surrendered the hostages in exchange for their freedom," She countered. "They keep their word. How about you try doing the same."

"I can't go against orders."

"If you have any integrity, then you'll honor the deal," She said with narrow eyes. Monroe was flustered for a minute under her stare. He quickly gathered his composure and nodded. He called off the orders and let the Khans go without a shot ringing in the air. As they left, both the Khans and the NCR paid Sinclaire their thanks. Her fame gradually increased between the two factions.

"You're very charming," Boone noted. It wasn't the usual comment anyone would drag out of his mouth. Hell, it was a miracle he uttered such a long sentence casually.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She snorted.

Boone rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," He countered. "I'm just admiring your ways of solving problems without having to kill anybody. You don't see that around here often." He tried to hide the fact that he was paying her a compliment. He didn't like to do that too often. He was afraid it'd ruin her character, which didn't consist of a bloated ego.

"Any kind of admiration coming from you will flatter me," She grinned. He scowled at her amusement. They continued walking out to the Mojave Desert with no real idea as to where they were going. Boone remembered something about the Strip down at New Vegas. Maybe they were headed there. "I don't think I've ever been to the Strip. Nothing about the casinos ever appealed to me."

"Have you at least been to Freeside?" He asked. She shook her head while checking her Pip-boy one last time. Geeze, does she ever keep her eyes off that thing? Sometimes she'd sit down for a good 30 minutes just looking through the damn thing. Boone grew impatient whenever she was scrolling through it.

"We have to go to the Strip," Sinclaire announced. Her face looked momentous. A new passion surged within her veins and he could see it. "I have to pay Benny a visit." He didn't want to bother asking who this Benny person was. After listening to the conversation she had with Jessup, he figured that he was the reason behind the scar on her temple. But what was this about the Platinum Chip. It seemed so important to her. Wasn't she just supposed to deliver it? A courier wouldn't be so attached their delivery assignment.

They traveled past Freeside, ignoring the sly comments from the gang members they would throw at Sinclaire. She let out a long breath of impatience and looked at Boone. He gave her a slight smirk. "Don't mock me," She spat.

"I didn't even say anything." He chuckled. He was really starting to open up after a few weeks of traveling together. He had gotten a lot more sleep and he was a lot cleaner. Not to mention the meals Sinclaire would feed. Goddamn, she could cook up a mean Gecko kabob. Everything she did simply replenished him. She would take good care of him. To be honest, it felt like he had a family again. Maybe he was going a little too far with that but he really did have another partner he could trust. "You know, you didn't have to give me this fucking metal armor. It's so bulky."

"Do you know how much that costs?" Her words bit at him. "I constantly kill those Viper bastards to repair that armor for you. Appreciate it." Oops, he should've known she wasn't in the mood today. She was closer to entering the strip and they both knew it. He backed away a little so she could walk ahead of him. "Oh, don't be like that you big pussy," She sighed. Her eyes gave a little roll as she turned around to face him. She took off the beret he has awarded her to scratch give her hair a little flip. "I only gave you that armor because I knew it'd give you the best protection. I don't want you getting hurt. At all."

"You sound like Carla."

They both stared at each other for a little while. Not one of them bothered hanging on to that comment. Sinclaire turned on her heel to continue walking towards the bright lights that waited ahead of them. He didn't know why he had said that or if it even bothered him for that matter. It just came out of his mouth like a simple breath. The more he thought about it, the more he had regretted it. It did bother him how he could just compare another woman to Carla. He had to admit it. "Hungry? Thirsty? Horny? Why not stop by the Wrangler? It's right down the street. You're almost there already!"

"No thanks," Sinclaire said with a smile. "You look thirsty, girl. Want some water?"

"Wow, is this purified?" She nodded at the girl, laughing while she chugged the water with clear utmost hunger for it. They continued walking after some loud shrieking of thanks bellowing down the street, even after they had been standing by the Strip gate. They both stared that the grand brightness it emitted. Sinclaire had never seen it this close. Every night, other than the stars, the neon signs would illuminate the sky beautifully. "Halt! Please show your passport or verification of 2,000 caps."

"Sure thing," She responded, a grin spreading across her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Boone and Sinclaire entered the Strip with star-stricken eyes and a fame that followed quickly behind them. There were whispers floating around of Sinclaire's mercenary jobs she has completed throughout the Mojave. Much more importantly, Boone listened to the vacationing NCR troopers when they spoke to her. They praised her while scorning the tasteless advances of the Legion as well. She was a respected woman with countless mysteries behind her as well. He never knew exactly who she was. But she hardly knew anything about him as well. It was fair deal between them.

"There it is," Sinclaire announced to Boone. They stood in front of the Tops casino, a different sort of ambition expressed on their face. Boone noticed the severity of this moment. He had never seen her so determined or this angry after all this time of traveling together. Her face was very monotone and sullen. Her range of expression was not vast. They were alike in many ways but only Sinclaire was capable of engaging them both into conversation. "Alright Boone, as soon as we enter, we're going to have to hand over all our weapons. That means your special hunting rifle too."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Giving up his rifle had become a ritual thing around this blasted woman. Each time his rifle was taken away from his calloused hands, there was this emptiness that constantly followed. It was this feeling of always feeling like there was something he had been forgetting. It was unsettling to him. "What if this guy Benny tries to kill us?" The question occurred to him suddenly.

"Look, I'll get you your rifle back exactly 12 minutes after we enter The Tops," She promised. She had already begun unbuckling the satchel on her Recon Armor. Boone hated how confident she was sometimes. He didn't like promises that weren't kept, but she had never let him down during their travels.

"You wanna bet?" Boone dared.

"You're willing to lose some caps again?" She snorted.

"Please, we both know that my caps also mean your caps," He countered.

"Fine, I get you your weapons back in 12 minutes and you give me one night to get completely wasted with you as my nanny." Her offer made his muscles stiffen. Damn it, he just hated her confidence so damn much. But this was New Vegas, and this was Sinclaire. The least he could do is take care of her while she has fun. Besides, he didn't mind if fun wasn't in his schedule. He never really cared much for pleasure. They shook hands on it.

After sealing the deal, Sinclaire tugged the rusted doors of the Tops casino open only to be greeted by slicked back hair and smooth talking. Boone held back behind her as he usually did when they wandered the Wastes. He was used to hearing men make advances towards her and hearing her deny them in a subtle manner. She was always gentle towards anything and anyone in the Mojave. But when it came to combat, she was as fierce as a cazador. "Hey baby, I'm gunna have to pat you down and strip you of your weapons," the chairman said smoothly, "Tops policy."

Sinclaire smiled generously, "Go right ahead." They patted her down a little too closely for Boone's liking. He knew she always kept hidden weapons somewhere in her boots. They never look there, they both agreed, so Boone was given a set of brass knuckles while she carried a deadly straight razor. He never understood how she could be so good at melee combat even though she admitted that she hated it. "I think you've got everything," She said when she noticed the chairman continued patting her down.

"Sorry, just making sure," He replied with a wink. She smiled sweetly just before rolling her eyes for Boone to see. He looked at her with a bemused expression as he was patted down for weapons as well. This time, the chairman wasn't too touchy. "Alright, you two are good to go."

With that, Sinclaire hurried over to another chairman. They all looked the same to Boone. "Hey, you look like you know your way around here," She said flirtatiously to this one. He smirked and combed his greased hair back carefully.  
"I sure do sweet cheeks. Swank is my name. I'd like to hear you crying it out later," He chuckled at his own little disgusting joke. Boone was reminded all over again why he hated people. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Sinclaire began with pouted lips, "I'm sure you've heard of Benny G., right? Point him out for me." Swank obeyed and pointed to a man past the lobby wearing a hideous checkered suit. Boone observed his arrogant movements and could see why everyone around the Mojave had hated him. He looked like a prick, using the strange word he had heard his companion using at Boulder City. "He tried to kill me. Look at this scar on my temple. I have his lighter too. I even have these cigarettes I found."

Sinclaire's eyes held desperation as she waited for a response from this Swank character. He seemed deep in thought as he saw the evidence. He looked up at her again after a long while and sighed. "Well, that is his lighter and that is his favorite brand of cigarettes," He started. "But I don't know what you want me to do."

"Tell me where his room is."

Boone looked at his watch and noticed she only had two minutes left for her to win the bet. But listening to her now, he knew she could give two shits about the bet they made. She was desperate for this and nothing else. "What will you do to him?" Swank asked.

Sinclaire tensed at the question. Both men expected a quick, solid reply. Surely, the famous one-dead Courier would want her alleged killer dead. "I'll kill him," Boone offered.

"NO!" Sinclaired boomed almost a little too loudly. He didn't flinch at her anger but everyone else sure as hell did. She was fortunate enough to only have everyone in the lobby hear her. "No," she said a little softer this time. "You avenged your wife and it's time to avenge myself."

"Damn, well if that's the only way to go, then I guess nothing can be done," Swank sighed. "Here's his room key. I'll even send him up to his room when you want to have him alone. I'll the other guys to keep their weapons lowered if a fight breaks out. I'm on your side girlie."

She smiled at him sincerely. "What of my weapons?" She asked finally.

Swank nodded in understanding and pulled out a metal footlocker that contained her endless inventory. As she checked her guns and put her certain favorites at her easily reached holster belt, she gave Boone his weapons. This time, she left him her favorite gun of all time. _Abilene Kid ~Limited Edition~. _A mere BB gun that she would use whenever she would hunt giant rats in her spare time. Boone thought she had such a strange love for this gun considering it was so weak and nearly unusable against real enemies. He'd like to see her take down a deathclaw using that lame gun. "What are you giving me this for?" He finally asked.

She fingered her dark black battle ax that she had attained in Camp Searchlight. He couldn't believe she was considering fighting with a blunt object rather than a gun. He knew how much she hated melee combat. He knew it was because the Legion pathetically fought solely with machetes and other bladed weapons. "Take care of it for me," She replied somberly.

"Bullshit," He sneered. "Stop making this sound as if you're about to face your death." She looked at him grimly. Her grey clouded eye managed to settle to settle with his. For a minute, it looked like her eyes had lost their violet hue. But just as quickly as they shared the intimacy of a stare, she grinned and straightened her back.

"Of course not," She said. "I just don't want my baby to get dirty." It was such a bullshit lie. Boone hated when she did this. On a normal occasion, she'd be able to lie successfully but he wasn't buying it this time. "Come on, I'm ready."

Sinclaire walked with a false confidence as she neared the man in the tacky checkered suit. Boone followed at a distance as he was ordered to, much to his distaste. He stopped once he saw her reach her target. With a silent look, she ordered him to stay put no matter what would happen next.

Sinclaire had signaled Swank with a tune she whistled. As the sweet melody of _Cheek to Cheek _sung by Fred Astaire escaped her lips, she dragged herself to the single working elevator. She had quickly changed into a pre-war Spring dress with a large gambling hat that veiled her face. She smoked a cigarette, watching Benny pass her through all the broken elevators. She felt disgusted, dirty, helpless, alone. For a minute, she had regretted leaving Boone in the lobby and was about to turn away from the elevator to bring him back to her side, but she quickly pushed away the thought. Benny had already left to his suite. She followed closely behind.

She wasn't even going to bother using a Stealthboy to take out the guards outside his door. She couldn't pass them casually seeing as how Benny owned the whole fucking floor. Hiding behind a large potted plant, she took out her silenced sniper rifle. She took out both men with a headshot before they could cry out in alert. This was her chance. Gathering her satchel, she made her way towards the big wooden doors. They were chipped and old, but this whole suit still screamed out luxury. She took out her black polished axe. She wasn't exactly great at using blunt objects but that was one of the reasons she resorted to this.

His death would not be gentle and quick. No, that was too forgiving. He would watch himself bleed. He would be able to see his own spine if was careful enough not to break it. No promises. One long last swig of her cigarette and she was ready. She opened the door carefully so as to not make a sound. She noticed she had been successful when she saw Benny drinking a shot of imported tequila. This son of a bitch. He deserved no mercy. She knew if she had delivered that chip at least one day before, a greater radius of the Mojave could have been saved. She gritted her teeth.

She could hear music filling the room with the song she had been whistling earlier to signal Swank. She grinned at the irony. "Heaven, I'm in heaven," She hummed along with the song. "And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak." Her voice startled Benny. He nearly fell out of the bar stool. When his eyes had settled on her face, he screamed.

"You!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "I killed you!" His hand reached for the gun holstered in his belt until Sinclaire swung her axe at his fingers. She successfully chopped his fingers off, earning a bellow of pain from Benny. She swung again this time with the intention of lodging the axe into the bar instead of Benny himself. She pushed her body against Benny's back and placed her lips right by his ear.

"One thing you'll learn about me, Benny, is that I'm not that easy to get rid of." Her whisper did not excite him or entice more fear out of him whatsoever. The color in his face had already been long gone and all he worried about right now was his bleeding hand. This annoyed Sinclaire. She dislodged the axe from the bar and swung it to his leg. She heard the sickening crack of his femur. She did the same again with his other leg, then his right arm, then finally his neck.

The hum of Fred Astaire's voice was distant to her now. She was numb with satisfaction. But there was this void now that she could not fill too easily. She stared at the jagged remains of Benny scattered all over the room. There had been random bits of muscle in her hair and all over the bar that she had scraped off. Not any of this disgusted her any more. But that's what disgusted her.

Sinclaire rummaged through Benny's belongings. She had found his torso somewhere behind the couch and found the platinum chip in his pocket, along with Maria. This should've completed her. Yet there she was, sitting in Benny's exact spot. She drank the same tequila, out of the same shot glass, with this stupid little chip. She had no idea what to do with it now. "You fucking piece of shit," She hiccupped at the chip. "Look at what you've done to me."

She hunched in the bar stool while fingering the intricate patterns on the platinum chip. After pouring herself over 10 shots of tequila and downing them all, the last shot seemed to burn her throat the most. The numbness was gone, she noticed. Despite the wooziness all the hard liquor had given her, her senses were sharp enough to notice Boone opening the door. "What are you doing here?" She demanded.

Boone looked at her through his sunglasses. He frowned at the sight of her. She looked grungy and gritty with all the blood and guts soiling her nice pre-war dress. Of course, it's not like he hasn't seen her dirty before but what bothered him was the clear pain etched on her face. "You won the bet, remember?" He responded.

Without another word, he waltzed over to her side and wiped her face with a convenient rag nearby. She gave him a big toothy smile. "You're too nice to me," She muttered. She leaned her cheek into his open palm and closed her eyes. Boone hesitated at the sudden closeness of this once distant girl. They were never this affectionate. The most affectionate thing they did was tend each others wounds. "Kiss me."

"You're drunk," Boone countered. He dropped his hand away from her face and stared at her bloody face. He was observant around her. She was frustrated right now and he could tell. She couldn't necessarily pace the room due to her intoxication but he could see her fidgeting with her fingers. There was a long silence that followed in between.

"You know," Sinclaire broke the silence. "Being blind in one eye, I lose all depth perception. I can't tell how far you are. When you touch me, I know you're near. So there is this comfort from this constant uneasiness." This almost sounded like a confession, they both thought. For once, Boone saw the vulnerability in this strong and powerful being. He was mesmerized.

"Are you crying?" He asked quietly. She looked at him with a grin on her face.

"Of course not," Sinclaire snorted. "I could be crying out your name in a couple of minutes though." She wiggled her eyebrows before erupting in bubbling laughter. Boone blushed at her crude sense of humor. "Boone, I know you're blushing. You don't need to turn your head the other way."

Disdain was clearly etched across his face. This clearly amused her to a whole new level. "Tell me about yourself Boone," She challenged. He wiped some blood and an arm off a barstool to sit down on it.

"There's nothing to tell," He countered.

"Come on. Just name one thing you like to do."

"Shoot things."

"Really?" Sinclaire laughed. "I like to shoot things too." A smile tugged at his lips. This girl would be the death of him. "There's something oddly amazing about a bullet. A stream of plasma. A laser's ray. Only solid matter could stop it. Even then, human flesh isn't solid enough to stop it sometimes."

Boone did not reply. He only stared back at her for a long moment of time. She began to speak again. "I have a pretty good idea of the guilt you're living with, Boone." He opened his mouth to protest in anger. No one could understand. But she continued talking. "We're both pawns in a useless game. You and I are both the same, Boone. We're not murderers. We're weapons. The gun does not kill a person but the person wielding it does."

"That doesn't make sense, Sinclaire," He said angrily. She wasn't scared of him and that only made him angrier.

"Are you sure it doesn't make sense?" Sinclaire countered. "You tell me, what were the orders at Bitter Springs? You didn't think at the time it was a miscommunication, right? You thought they were orders. But I know you questioned those orders. You wouldn't do that type of shit on your own will, Boone."

"Shut the fuck up!" Boone yelled in rage. He threw the empty bottle of Mexican tequila at the wall behind her. He could only see in red again, just like that time he had to shoot through her arm to save her. He had been so angry and confused, he didn't know what else to think.

He saw her standing by the wall with bits and pieces of glass hair embedded in her raven black hair when his vision cleared. Guilt hit him in waves as he saw her form. She wasn't scared or angry as Boone expected her to be. She was lost in thought while she looked at him. He walked closer to her, so close that his chest touched hers. He began picking out the glass fragments out of her hair while she continued to look up at him. "I'm sorry Boone, I shouldn't have brought that up," Her voice was so soft.

"No you shouldn't have," He repeated. He suddenly noticed the nearness of her warmth. He could feel the strong scent of tequila burning his nostrils. He could smell the feminine scent of lavender on her too. She had sprayed it on quickly while she was getting ready in the bathroom. Why she would pretty herself up to kill someone was unexplainable. He had picked out all the stray glass from her hair. "I'm so sorry."

The hot liquor of her breath stung his nose harshly but it also made him realize just how close she was. He would not back away. "Hold me, Boone," She whispered hoarsely. She would have kissed his ear by now knowing that he always hated whenever she had snuck up behind him and whispered in his ear. He was ticklish there. But as soon as she saw, _felt_, the skin underneath her tense in clear pleasure, she stopped herself. The painfully small part of her sober self took over and she just realized what she was doing. "Oh god, I'm sorry. Oh no," She cried while burying her hand in her face. "Can't you stop me from doing this, fuck's sake? I'm so sorry Boone."

Boone refused to look at her for a moment. He felt ashamed at the sudden rush of heat that she evoked from inside him. He willed himself to think of Carla to calm himself down, but that only disgusted him more. He couldn't even think of his wife anymore without thinking of Sinclaire at the same time. His eyes betrayed him and looked at her one more time under his blonde eyelashes. She was sitting on the couch with her freshly polished hands neatly folded on her lap. Her head was tilted upwards and her eyes were closed. She was beautiful to Boone right then and there. "What are you doing?" He managed to ask.

"Crying." Her voice wavered a little which proved what she had just said. But Boone has seen many girls cry during his youth and she wasn't weeping. Her cheeks were dry, her eyes closed, her breaths even; she looked like she was meditating. Her eyelids opened suddenly and her purple/crystalline eyes shone in a way he had never seen before. Despite the dull light of the Benny's hotel room her eyes were glistening brightly. The color was so clear that it struck Boone right in his place. "I don't know what to do now, Boone," She admitted. Her eyes were still staring at the ceiling and her voice was just stronger than a whimper. "The only thing that motivated me was killing this sonofabitch but now it's done. What do I do?"

He was at a loss for words. He was in the same position as her not too long ago when he killed that Jeannie May scum for selling his wife. What irked him was that Sincalire was there to console him. Boone didn't know what to do now. He thought of what he could say right now but heavy breaths. "Don't worry about comforting me Boone. I just like to voice my thoughts."

That line did it for him. He felt so useless that he just went up and took initiative. He pulled her up from her sitting position and embraced her in a tight hug. Her pre-war dress gave her access to her vulnerable, fleshy form. But he could only imagine the bulkiness from his armor that she had to deal with. "I've got your back, okay?" He muttered into her hair. Damn, she smelled too good. Having such a feminine scent around a man of the wasteland would be enough to drive him crazy. The female to male ratio is pathetic

Sinclaire chuckled into the nape of his neck. "Thanks Boone, that means a-" She trailed off mid sentence when she heard a sound from the direction of Benny's room. Boone heard it too. She eased Boone's arms off her and made her way towards the bedroom, only to see the wall to be carved in with an extra door that look misplaced. She gave one last hesitant look at Boone and received a nod of approval from him. She touched the knob and was greeted with an unexpected securitron.


End file.
